Tag Archives: poetry

Story Told is One Heard

It is the end of incredibly long and rewarding day. I thought I would try write a poem and I hope it works OK. I want to share about the retreat here and the questions are great. Deep listening is a necessity. What that might look like in other settings is a challenge to explain, so I hope to let that idea percolate over the next couple of days.

Your courage is your truth;

It reveals your story

So necessary to tell

And be heard.

Listen carefully

Words tell a story;

Only shared

With deep listening.

Today, listen differently

Hear words anew;

Sacred space shared;

Human love fully recognized.

Companions

I am preparing for a trip to Bainbridge and a retreat. This is part of a Leadership Academy presented by the Centre for Courage and Renewal. This is the second part of the process and it has been truly rewarding as I find my way on this journey called life with companions here at home, from all over North America and, sometimes, beyond.

Beloved other

An invitation,

For carried alone

Troubles weight us down

Each step, a struggle.

But, lightened,

Grow strong together

Backs straighten–

Shoulders square–

Heads held high.

Journey together,

Loads shared

Trust born

Become companions

Break bread together.

End of Week

Turn the soil

Plant the seeds

Offer precious food

Sustaining liquid

Nourish the spirit

 A soul grows,

Buoyed–

A light shines

Reveals the path

With each step taken.

Breathe

Barely audible

Life giving

End of week arrives

I wait quietly,

I pause patiently,

I till tenderly,

Turn the soil

Plant the seeds

Take care.

The Way it Is

A common theme has followed me the last little while. It has wound its way through my posts, my thoughts, and it seems in the daily discourse I have with songs I hear or poetry I read. It is the idea that as much as I try to hold on to the way things are, they are still in a constant rhythm of change. It reminds of Heraclitus’ quote: You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you. I find it is more complicated than that, as the same person cannot step into the river. With each ensuing moment, I change and the world I live in and with changes.

Yesterday, as I was driving home, Tommy Castro, a San Francisco blues performer, came on the radio with a song called It Is What it Is. The lyrics of the refrain go like this:

Yeah, I am what I am,

‘Cause I ain’t what I used to be.

‘Cause it is what it is,

But it ain’t what it used to be.

Sometimes, as much as I want things to remain the same or return to an idealized past, they cannot. Part of the reason, a big part, is I am not who I was a moment ago. Today, I flipped open one of the many books of poetry books I enjoy and found this William Stafford poem which echoed the lyrics above.

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among

things that change. But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt

or die; and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you can do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.

Life Arrives

I read comments today in response to yesterday’s post, Transformation, and found words emerging. They remind me of the unnecessary chase. I only need patience and life arrives in each moment, fully revealed in its extraordinary nature. Life is not a race or hunting trip in which I seek the biggest prize.

When I seek

When I chase

Am active

I fail.

Patience

When I sit

I need not seek

Life discovers me.

Found

I wait

Life arrives

I only need sit.

Transformation

When I write and post, I do not know where I go. Each step is its own process without rehearsal.

A step at a time;

A moment at a time

The outlook changes

With each step

With each moment.

The world changes every so slowly

Yet, gracefully

Seek no material reward

Yet, the reward is priceless

A dance with life

Unrehearsed.

Change shines outward

A radiant light shines forth

Illuminates the path

If I am present

The world is a gift

A gift of creation.

Mindful Attitude

I read three articles this weekend and Father Richard Rohr’s daily meditation this morning. I found a clear message in each source and this message has slowly been revealed. Sabbath is a necessary part of my life and I slowly discover its purpose in a mindful attitude. It is in life lived mindfully I obtain a radical unity with my self, creation, neighbor, enemy, and always with God, step by step.

A mindful attitude–

Seek to choose well

Blend fiery passion

With compassion’s loving kindness.

Let life’s fruit mature;

Ripen deeply

Nurture life’s fully.

A spiritual banquet nourishes

Deepest meanings revealed

I Respond to life’s bounty.

Assume responsibility

For one’s self

For each other.

Welcome the world

Understand–

With childlike wonder

Become one;

Become whole

Transform the self.

From Teaching a Stone to Talk

Annie Dillard is a wonderful writer whose prose has a great poetic quality. Her words ask me to find quiet and solitude provided on the Sabbath. In that quiet, I go deeper and seek peace among the turmoil.

“In the deeps are the violence and terror of which psychology has warned us. But if we ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop them further over the world’s rim, you find what our sciences cannot locate or name, the substrate, the ocean or matrix or ether which buoys the test, which gives goodness its power for good, and evil its power for evil, the unified field: our complex and inexplicable caring for each other, and for our life together here. It is given. It is not learned.”

Take care and see you Monday.

The Poet Speaks

Yesterday, after I posted a Vaclav Havel poem, It Is I Who Must Begin, I realized there was more than just the poem at play. Sam Intrator in Teaching with Fire, which he co-edited with Megan Scribner, commented in a section entitled Tending the Fire: “Poetry, by its capacity to touch the human soul and tap into the deepest wellsprings of our being, opens up opportunities for us to stay vital and alive” (p. 210).

As I reflected on yesterday’s poem and the role that poetry plays in my life, I realized poetry is a series of conversations. It is both an internal and external process. I turn in with each word, symbol, and term and ask “What does that mean in my life?” I also, in that internal conversation, hear the poet, who is present, through his or her words.

I sit

Book in lap

Each word, space, punctuation

Each has meaning

A personal truth

For each heard differently.

I listen closer

My body leans in

I don’t want to miss any essence

I hear a voice

As in the company of another

Is the poet here with me?

It Is I Who Must Begin – Vaclav Havel

I made a promise coming into the school year. I would keep my head, do only what I can, and not flounder. I won’t let things get me down. I find solace in writing, nature, with Kathy, and in reading poetry. Some days I just open a book and find a poem which speaks to me in such a clear voice I think the poet stands or sits across from me sharing their words. That is what happened with this poem by Vaclav Havel.

It is I who must begin,

Once I begin, once I try—

here and now,

right where I am,

not excusing myself

by saying that things

would be easier elsewhere,

without grand speeches and

ostentatious gestures,

but all the more persistently

—to live in harmony

with the “voice of Being,” as I

understand it within myself

—as soon as I begin that,

I suddenly discover,

to my surprise, that

I am neither the only one,

nor the first,

nor the most important one

to have set out upon the road.

Whether all is really lost

or not depends entirely on

whether or not I am lost.